


Going Broke

by AkiRah



Series: Beyond Destiny: Short Side Pieces (Entirely Out Of Order) [2]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Best Friends, Chapter 13: Piracy and Plunder, Gen, Hrafnhar and Gault are Sappy but would never admit it, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 09:50:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11780634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkiRah/pseuds/AkiRah
Summary: But when Gault thought about the monetary cost of finding Hrafnhar and worked out a budget behind his eyes, he realized there was more he was willing to spend. He could call it an investment. She was the muscle and he was the charm and together they could make back everything he’d spent.He . . . missed her.And that was horrifying.





	Going Broke

Gault glared at the Spire. Their last lead had pointed them to Arcann’s private collection but new intel was contradicting that. The _Outlander_ was either a sith or a jedi (and frankly he wasn’t sure he could trust Zakuul with even that _obvious_ distinction). But unless Hrafnhar had pulled off the _ultimate_ con and convinced the incredibly-force-sensitive-and-emotionally-unstable Prince Arcann that she was a force user, it wasn’t her. 

All the other trails were cold. 

All the escape pods had been found and more than a few of them had crashed soundly enough that the closest thing to a survivor they were likely to find were the smears. 

Gault’s account was dwindling. Oh, he still had money if he needed it, but the nice cushion he and Hrafnhar had built up was gone. He looked at the numbers and back at the Spire and put the numbers away. 

She was worth it. 

Not like Hylo was worth it. Hylo was worth going broke _and_ dipping into dangerous heroics. 

But when Gault thought about the monetary cost of finding Hrafnhar and worked out a budget behind his eyes, he realized there was more he was willing to spend. He could call it an investment. She was the muscle and he was the charm and together they could make back everything he’d spent. 

He . . . missed her. 

And that was horrifying. 

They’d already dropped Blizz off, he was going to mourn “Big Boss” in his own way by setting up a new business venture, possibly _back_ on Hoth even though Hrafnhar had loudly and insistently hated that planet. 

Hrafnhar probably hated nothing in this galaxy as much as she hated Hoth. 

Mako was trying to cheer up Torian, who wasn’t having it but seemed determined to look after her in turn. Gault could almost hear Hrafnhar in his ear, _Fuck, man, if she looks any thirstier I might tell Torian to stick his cock in her mouth in hopes of getting her_ anything _to drink._

#

They’re not going to find her. 

The sentiment _echoes_ around their ugly little ship and Gault can’t muster the wherewithal to be anything more than disappointed. 

Torian re-reads a message on his datapad seven times. Mako keeps crying when she doesn’t think anyone notices. 

Gault checks the numbers again. 

It would still be worth it. 

But there’s not a point if everyone’s going their separate ways. 

He won’t find her _alone_ and his attempt to goad Torian into holding onto hope results in a swollen cheek from a solid right hook. 

Gault leaves the ship with them. It’s an ugly hunk of metal anyway. Hrafnhar had told him that she’d stolen it and laughed when he asked why. 

_Next time, Champ, steal something with a little class._

_Next time, Honeybunches, I intend to make you talk them into just giving it to us._

He does just that and the ship he’s “borrowing” has just enough class to keep him happy and still under the radar. He’s never named his ships, he always ditches them too soon, but he pats the inside of the hull with a fondness he picked up from her before he settles into the Captain’s seat. 

#

Lana cheats at sabbak. However, she doesn’t cheat _well,_ and Gault exploits it. He gives her a full view of the inside of his head, cards he’s seen, cards he has _,_ cards he _wishes_ he had, the perfect slope of Hylo’s bare back as she grips the sheets of their bed. Whatever pops into his head he is more than happy to share. _He_ can keep it all straight, but he’d be amazed if she could. 

Sure enough, when Lana calls she sputters and bitches about how he was cheating. Gault _grins_. “Now, does the old boss of Sith Intelligence _really_ want to admit that some shifty alien got the better of her?” 

Lana storms off and Gault hears the sweet, familiar sound of Hylo’s exasperation behind him. She settles in Lana’s seat. “Marlitharn, meet the most untrustworthy scoundrel I’ve ever met. Untrustworthy scoundrel, the commander.” 

“You must be Gault,” Marlitharn says. She’s a pureblood sith, tall, red skin, thick black hair. “Well, that’ll be interesting.” 

“She’s mentioned me?” Gault smiles. “I’m hardly surprised. I am the one true love of her life.” 

Hylo huffs reliably.

“I mean, yeah, but don’t tell Torian. He’s the jealous type and doesn’t like you _anyway_.” A different voice interjects and Gault freezes, smile still stuck on his face. Hylo smirks in his periphery. “Hey Marls, I thought I’d let you know we sorted out that problem with the Gravestone but Tora’s drunk and trying to fist fight . . .everything. I think Len’s sitting on her.” 

“Don’t call me Marls.” Marlitharn mutters. “But thanks.” 

Gault turns in his chair and sure enough, there she is, looking just as smug as the day he lost her. Purple lips pulled into a smile that crinkles her fiery red eyes, blue skin unmarred by scars or wrinkles, jet black hair piled in a bun that drops into a braid.

Grinning. 

Just the way he left her. 

“I see you’ve met my shooting star,” Gault gestures to Hylo with a smirk. 

“They haven’t seen me shooting anything, _yet_ ,” Hylo retorts, but she does it with a smile. 

Hrafnhar gives a little laugh, almost a snort. “A real love-hate relationship you’ve got here. She’s the hate, right?” 

“Forgiveness is a long, hard road full of toll booths.” Gault pushes out of his chair and crosses his arms. He grins at her, trying to convey how glad he is that she’s alive without having to _say_ anything. “Much as I’d love to while away the hours with my two favorite ladies in the Galaxy, my proposition is a little . . . time-sensitive.”

Hrafnhar turns to look at Marlitharn and grins. “Hey, Commander, Gault’s everything Hylo says he is and _probably_ fucking worse, but whatever this plan is, it’ll fucking work.” She crosses her arm. “And I want in.” 

“Hope you haven’t lost your edge, Killer.” Gault grins. 

#

They steal a moment (the way they steal everything) when everyone else is resting up before the job. Gault passes her a bottle of something pricy he’d been saving. Hrafnhar takes a long drink. Her expression changes when he mentions that he was _going broke_. 

It’s a subtle shift, but Gault has been reading faces at least twice as long as she’s been alive. 

He takes a long drink and realizes he doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Torian _did_ give up and resigned himself to revenge instead of rescue. Not having the _heart_ for something is new, and he’s not sure he likes it. 

But she doesn’t ask about Torian, not right away. And that was weird because the two mando lovebirds were joined at the hip, literally a lot of the times, and Gault had heard love songs less sappy (though never as lewd) as Hrafnhar when she would talk about him. 

Her full purple lips tug up into a small smile. 

And Gault knows she knows, and that’s terrifying. Hylo’s his one and only, but Hrafnhar’s something else entirely. His best friend. 

Gault, of all people, was going broke to try and find her. 

And that means something. 

“It was worth it,” he tells her, shrugging one shoulder like it’s no big deal. “Now, let’s go show these amateurs what two old pros can do.”


End file.
